


Wet

by freshfuckinpot



Series: Dave/Link [5]
Category: Foo Fighters, Rhett & Link
Genre: Blow Jobs, Desperation Play, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Watersports, Wet & Messy, very brief foot stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshfuckinpot/pseuds/freshfuckinpot
Summary: What kind of person asks their best friend to fuck him and his boyfriend? Where does Link even think this is gonna go? So what if Rhett watched the two of them that one time, kissed Link a little bit?So what?This is a little bit different than that. This is more open-ended.But still, Rhett sucks every last inch of air from Link’s lungs when he says, “Yeah.”
Relationships: Dave Grohl/Link Neal, Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: Dave/Link [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1230119
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	Wet

Dave’s mouth is working wetly down the side of his neck, and Link’s chest rumbles around a low, shocked sound at the realization that they’re actually doing this. 

One of Rhett’s big hands is digging fingers into Dave’s bicep as Dave’s lips paint wet patterns across his skin. He’s making a high sound in the back of his throat and Dave murmurs something low and sweet and quiet enough that Link can’t make out what he’s saying, but it must be good because Rhett’s other hand finds Dave’s ponytail and holds him in place so he can turn his head and slot their mouths together messily. 

Link watches. 

It’s good, and it’s weird, and Link wants to-- 

He wants to squeeze himself in between both of them and see what they’ll do to him.  _ With  _ him. Instead, he watches. His skin feels tacky, like he’s sweating, but he isn’t, he doesn’t think. No, he’s just aching to reach forward and imply himself into this, interrupt them and get involved. 

He won’t, because it would be rude, but gosh, does he want to. 

For now, he takes in the way Dave’s hands find their way to Rhett’s middle, rubbing kindly at his sides as he works his tongue into Rhett’s mouth. And Rhett sounds so damn pretty, all high noises and desperate groans that Dave tugs out of him. 

When they pull apart, it’s so that Dave can get on the floor in front of Rhett, position him carefully on the edge of the couch. Link’s almost certain that both he and Rhett suck in a sharp breath at the same time as Dave starts for the waist of Rhett’s pants. 

“Fuck, I like an audience,” Dave laughs, getting those damn joggers and Rhett’s briefs all at once, down and off and tossed in the corner of the room somewhere. Link watches him get a hand on Rhett’s belly, avoiding the leaking head of his cock at all costs, holding him in place as he uses his other hand to get Rhett’s legs up. He says, “Hold ‘em for me, baby.” 

It’s nothing in particular that wakes him up, but he does so with a start and a whine tumbling out of him. He doesn’t realize he’s rutting against the mattress until Christy is slapping at him weakly, groaning about him calming down before she’s turning and falling back asleep. 

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, and politely and quickly jerks off with the image of Dave licking a wet stripe across Rhett’s hole seared into his brain. 

\--

“I want to watch you fuck Rhett.” 

Dave is good about not spitting his beer everywhere, but only just so, and his eyes go a bit red as he fights back the coughing fit bubbling up in his chest. 

Link feels just a little smug about it, right up until Dave is wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking at him carefully. “Is that right?” he asks. 

When Link nods, it’s slow and calculated because maybe that’s not the entire truth, but maybe Dave doesn’t need to know that yet. This conversation is enough for now. It’s a stretch as it is. 

“Couldn’t have mentioned this somewhere more convenient?” Dave teases, fingers smoothing down the sides of his mustache as he crosses one leg over the other. He raises his eyebrows pointedly, and Link shrugs. 

“This is more fun,” Link tells him. He thinks about reaching out and getting his hand on Dave’s thigh, just for the contact, but he decides against it last minute. If only because they’re not entirely alone. 

More and more of his weekends are looking just like this, at Dave’s house with his family, watching him cook for all of them while the kids play and their wives talk. It’s nice, it’s perfect. And maybe part of him thinks adding Rhett and his family to the mix would be nice. 

An old conversation of theirs rings in his head, and he’s suddenly remembering spitting on Dave, the heat of anger searing through him as he stormed off. 

“Did I ever apologize for spitting on you that one time?”

Dave huffs out a laugh, takes another sip of his beer, swallowing without hindrance this time. “You did, and I’m pretty sure I told you I didn’t fucking care that you spit on me. Why, you wanna do it again?” 

Link eyes him carefully. “Is it a thing for you?” 

“Maybe,” he says around a shrug. “It’s probably safe to assume that even if something isn’t a thing for me, it’s not  _ not  _ a thing for me.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Link laughs. 

Dave tosses him a look over his shoulder as he’s poking at a rack of ribs, checking the temperature. Link is hit with a wave of heat and the encompassing smell of charcoal and wood chips. He wants to stay just like this forever. 

But then he’s saying, “What if I wanted to do more than just spit on you?” 

“Name it,” Dave is saying, and Link doesn’t know where he was going with that conversation, just wanted to push Dave’s buttons. But he’s calm, completely honest, open, and Link shudders just a bit. When he’s quiet for a moment, Dave goades him on, “Come on, baby. What you got?” 

“Let me piss on you,” he’s saying before he even knows that’s where his thoughts were going. It’s a joke, mostly. It’s not--

He doesn’t really want that. 

He doesn’t  _ not  _ want it. 

Shit, maybe Dave did make sense, before. 

“Right now?” 

“Jesus, Dave,” Link laughs again, reaching across to grab his own beer from where it’s condensating on the table between them. “Not-- no, not right now.” 

“I’d let you,” Dave promises. “What if I got Rhett to piss on me?” 

Link squirms. That’s a thought, isn’t it? Dave turns to face him finally, closing the smoker and taking a few steps closer. And Link hums, avoiding eye contact as he wriggles around in his seat for a bit before landing on, “Me first.” 

“Greedy,” Dave teases, bending forward to press their mouths together sweetly. “Can I make you hold it for me first? How long can you last?” 

“Not very,” Link breathes. “But you can make me try, sure.” 

“Either you’ll hold it or you’ll piss yourself in front of whoever I choose,” Dave tells him, like it’s his final offer. He’s giving Link an out. 

And this is-- 

They haven’t really talked about this sort of dynamic between them, not really. Not the type of talking that they should, anyway. Offhanded promises that it’s okay, that they’ll say something if that changes. 

So Link says, “We should talk about this a little more, probably.” 

“Let’s talk, then. Is it something you actually want, or were you trying to shock me?” He’s facing Link again, sitting and crossing his legs, getting comfortable. There’s no reason they can’t talk about it now, but the idea still has Link squirming a bit. 

“Both? I don’t know, man,” Link says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve never really thought about it.” 

“Think about it and get back to me. My offer is on the table,” Dave tells him, reaching across to rub his hand down Link’s thigh, more for contact than anything else. 

Link stalls, just a bit, before biting the bullet and saying, “Should we set up a safeword? We’re getting into some actual kinky shit, now.” 

That pulls a laugh from Dave, full-bellied, head tossed back as he claps his hands together. He’s pushing his hair out of his face, his laughter dying down as he asks, “As if nothing else we’ve done is actually kinky?” 

“Well,” Link says, chuckling. He has a point. “This is different. You’re-- You want--”

“I want to boss you around a bit, yeah,” Dave offers. He’s nodding carefully. And gosh, the nonchalance, the words just tumbling right out of him as if they faced no resistance whatsoever. “A safeword would be a good idea. And maybe a list of do’s and don'ts from both of us.” 

Link lets out a breath he didn’t realize was pooling too heavily in his lungs. As he’s carding his fingers through his hair, he asks, “Rhett?” because it’s all he can manage right now, feeling exposed and jumpy.

“If you want to include him, yes,” is Dave’s answer, and it feels a lot like permission. 

It’s sweet and thick in the pit of his stomach. 

He nods. 

\--

They go over things. 

Dave gives him an actual, handwritten list, where Link rattles off a few things from a note he’s got typed into his phone. They agree on most things, with very few exceptions of things Link’s unsure of and Dave is greenlighting. 

Link gives him a word, said carefully between trembling lips. 

It feels important.

He doesn’t say anything to Rhett. 

\--

“Dave invited me to come to that show with you guys,” is how the conversation starts. 

Link looks up from his phone, uncurls his leg from underneath him. Jade hops onto the floor, shakes. And only once Link notes each of these things happening in succession does he ask, “What did you say?” 

“I said I’d talk to you about it.” He’s shrugging, and Link wishes he didn’t feel like he had to ask. He’s a part of this, now. Link isn’t exactly sure which part, or how much space he takes up in it, but he’s allowed in. He’s allowed to say yes without asking Link about it first. 

But instead of saying all that, Link says, “He wants to do a, a thing, I think.”

Rhett raises an eyebrow. “A thing?” 

“Yeah, like,” and Link gives him a vague hand gesture that’s supposed to convey, ‘he wants to make me refrain from going to the bathroom until he tells me to’ but mostly just conveys confusion. 

There’s a laugh perched under Rhett’s chin when he asks, “A sex thing? Are you struggling to find the word ‘scene’, Link?” 

Link grunts in affirmation, unlocks his phone again, bites his bottom lip. 

“Are you okay with that?” 

“We have a safeword,” Link tells him, and this time Rhett does laugh. “Shut up.” 

“No, that’s-- I mean, that’s good, right? That you’re being safe about it.” He’s moving, but Link doesn’t look up from his phone to see how or for what reason. 

The room falls silent around them for a beat too long, and Link can’t help it when his lungs beat a hurried, “Do you want to do a scene with us?” out of him. And then, “N-not at the show! Just, come to the show if you want, and then at another, undecided time, do you want to do a scene with us?” 

This time he looks up, catches Rhett’s eyebrows raising again, his hands picking at a loose thread on his shirt. 

“We have a safeword,” Link offers again, lamely. As if it’s a sales pitch. As if Rhett isn’t going to look at him and tell him to fuck off immediately. What kind of person asks their best friend to fuck him and his boyfriend? Where does Link even think this is gonna go? So what if Rhett watched the two of them that one time, kissed Link a little bit? 

So what? 

This is a little bit different than that. This is more open-ended. 

But still, Rhett sucks every last inch of air from Link’s lungs when he says, “Yeah.” 

\--

Last time they were all together, Link was... _ preoccupied _ . 

He was focused on something other than trying to pay attention to what Dave is saying, what Rhett is responding with. Nobody is touching him, but he feels their hands on him. It’s easy to fall into the lulling tones of them both having a gentle conversation about whatever it is they’re talking about. Guitars, maybe? The album they’ve got playing lowly in the background?

“Hey,” he hears, and there’s a familiar hand on his thigh, too confidently, comfortably high to be Rhett’s. He sucks in a breath. “You gonna tell us what you’re thinking about?” 

There’s a grin in his voice, and Link is shaking his head before he can think about it further. He doesn’t-- 

Gosh, he’s distracted, and he doesn’t know if he wants to talk about it with them right now. 

Realistically, he knows he’s got to eventually, because he’s already dragged both of them into this with him. 

Instead of answering, he leans up to press their mouths together, pleased when Dave meets him in the middle. And as they’re pulling away Dave says, “Would you get on your knees for me?” 

It’s low, quiet enough that he doubts Rhett was able to hear, and Link is glad for the moment to really think about this. He feels silly when his response is a quick glance over at Rhett, where he’s wiping at the condensation on the side of his beer bottle. And then a murmur of, “Right now?” 

“Mm,” Dave hums. “Yeah.” 

There’s a thumb at his bottom lip, and he knows what Dave’s asking him for. This is testing some waters. With everyone just about on the same page, now, Link knows he’s easing them all into things rather than jumping in head first. 

So Link nods, sucks in a sharp breath, and is moving, ears ringing. Dave hands him a pillow from the couch to put under his knees as he sinks to the floor carefully. 

They have a safeword, he remembers. He knows how to do this, even if he does have the added presence in the room. And suddenly, he can feel Rhett’s eyes on him like a shift in the air. 

Dave isn’t hard yet, and something about that is a bigger comfort than Link had anticipated. His hands are shaking when they land on Dave’s thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of his jeans. 

Through the pounding in his skull, he hears Dave tell Rhett, “You can tell us no.” 

And then there’s a shaky feeling in the pit of his stomach when he hears Rhett say, “I know.” The hand that finds its way into his hair is firm and steady, and Link leans forward to mouth across the front of Dave’s pants. He’s done this so many times before. 

He knows how to do this, knows what Dave likes. It’s easy enough to go through the motions, even with this added layer of everything they’ve got going on. And when he gets his hands on Dave’s hips, steadying himself as he opens his mouth and presses forward, he feels better. He feels lighter. 

His jaw aches from the stretch and his mouth is drying out against the denim of Dave’s jeans, but the tilt of Dave’s hips is enough of an encouragement to have him humming, doubling his efforts. Once his tongue is involved, Dave pulls a face, tugs on his hair.

Link gets the message, and it’s easy enough to get Dave’s jeans open, get his hand inside. 

He still isn’t hard, and Link furrows his brow, looks up at Dave in question. His tongue is dry, and his mouth hurts. His lips feel swollen already. Dave licks his lips. He cocks his head. He says, “What? You don’t get stage fright sometimes?” 

Rhett laughs, full and hearty, and Link gets his hand around Dave’s dick, maneuvers and shifts himself and Dave until he can get up a little higher on his knees. He shoulders Dave’s legs apart a little more and settles in as close as he can get. “You know, some people think of you as some sort of god,” and he leans forward and presses his mouth to the base of Dave’s cock. “Some god.” 

__ “Brat,” Dave mutters, and Link laughs as he wraps his lips around Dave. It’s nice like this, without him being hard. He just likes giving head, really. It doesn’t much matter if Dave is hard already or not, it’s good. Those fingers in his hair and the hitch of his breath is good and hot and settling in the base of his stomach with everything else.

“I’m glad it’s not just me,” he can hear Rhett say, and that’s— 

Gosh. 

_ Gosh _ . He whimpers, and Dave hisses, and he can feel him growing thick in Link’s mouth. 

“Oh,” Dave says, and there’s a familiar feeling there. “Rhett, you know your boy is kinky? Like  _ really  _ fucking kinky.” 

Rhett makes a soft sound, and Link lets his eyes fall shut. The embarrassment is thick already. But goodness if it isn’t hot, searing hot right down Link’s spine. And then Rhett is saying, “I kinda figured.” 

“Yeah, he isn’t exactly subtle,” Dave agrees, and he gently scratches as Link’s scalp, hips rocking up. And he’s nearly hard, now, getting harder for Link to have all of him in his mouth. “You know he asked to piss on me?” 

_ Fuck—  _

“Really?” Rhett asks, and Link doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s shifting, to know he’s going red in the face. And he doesn’t have to look at Dave to know exactly which smug look he’s got going on right now. 

Dave hums, gets his thumbs at Link’s cheeks and presses down until it’s almost painful. Link opens his eyes, looks up at him. His lips are wet, his eyes dark. And he rocks his hips up right as he’s saying, “Yeah, man. Fucking spit on me while we were arguing about you, and asked if he could piss on me when he brought it up again a few days ago.” 

The shame of it all burns through Link. He feels-- 

He’s teetering on some edge here, but he can’t quite figure out which one it is. He breaks the eye-contact with Dave and hears himself whimper a bit pathetically. Dave is mostly hard now, and Link’s jaw aches with the stretch in a familiar way. He aches all over, if he’s honest, from being on his knees, from Dave rubbing salt in his wounds, from the knowledge that Rhett is watching him suck Dave’s cock like this is something they’ve always done. 

This is  _ good _ . He feels fuzzy all over and hot with embarrassment, but it’s good. Dave is warm and thick in his mouth, his thumbs pressing harsh and tough against Link’s cheeks. It’s good. 

Gosh, it’s good. 

Rhett is talking, but Link can’t figure out what he’s saying through the echoing of his own pulse in his head. He can piece it together when Dave chuckles lowly, shivers discreetly enough that Link’s sure Rhett didn’t notice, and says, “He wants to watch me fuck you, I know that much.” 

And they’re really-- 

They’re just having a conversation, as if Link isn’t here, as if Dave doesn’t have his cock rammed down Link’s throat. He’s rocking up into Link’s mouth in small, smooth motions, and he’s angling Link’s head how he wants it. And-- 

And-- 

Rhett is moving. Link can tell, because he can see his shadow on the wall getting bigger and bigger. Before he can react, he’s leaning forward, getting his hands on Dave’s shoulders, and Link watches with a desperate sort of heat thrumming through his veins as they kiss. 

He watches his teeth as he pulls off, because he’s just barely holding himself together at this point, and Dave opens his eyes at the loss of contact, sneaks a glance down at Link. 

They pull away, and Link licks his left palm, wraps his hand around Dave. Around Dave’s groan, Link says, “Do it again.” 

“Oh, look who’s giving orders all of a sudden,” Dave teases, but he pulls Rhett back to him all the same. Right as they’re slotting their mouths together again, Rhett looming over Link, leaning over in a way that’s got to be growing uncomfortable, Link moves and gets his mouth on Dave again. 

The thing about knowing somebody sexually the way that he knows Dave sexually at this point is that he can anticipate the way Dave’s body is going to jerk foreward when he moves his hand, sinks down as far as he can, and swallows. On the inverse, he can’t anticipate the way that Rhett makes this sound in the back of his throat like he’s being gutted when Dave does that thing with his tongue that Link knows about like he knows how Dave is going to jerk forward before he even does it. For a beat, they’re all moving together. 

And then Link is pulling away again, watching how Dave gets a hand on Rhett’s neck, how he slips his tongue past Rhett’s lips, and he gets lost in watching that for a while. 

They’re a good pair, Rhett competitive enough to make kissing Link’s boyfriend a sport, and Dave with enough confidence and brashness to turn it sloppy and fun like Link knows he likes it. 

Link feels himself flush, and he buries his face in the meaty part of Dave’s thigh with a whine. He’s almost certain Dave isn’t going to turn this into more than what it already is, and he’s okay with that. Still, he wants  _ something _ . 

What he gets is Dave’s other hand, the one not holding Rhett to him lest he break away, carding through his hair gently, his nails scratching at Link’s scalp in soothing motions. He almost forgets that he’s got a hand wrapped around the base of Dave’s dick. 

It’s easy to start jerking him off, to sit back and watch the way it makes Dave shift, tug Rhett closer, fuck his tongue into Rhett’s mouth obscenely. They look good. 

Link squirms, and apparently Dave catches him because he chuckles hotly, right against Rhett’s mouth. There’s a socked foot wedging itself between Link’s thighs before he can really register what’s going on, and that’s--

Gosh, that’s good. He isn’t thinking when he rocks up into the pressure, a gasp tumbling out of him desperately. 

Dave arches his foot, puts pressure against Link’s cock, and it’s enough of a hint for Link. 

Trying to remember to move his hand, Link takes what he’s been given and finds an easy rhythm of pressing up into Dave’s foot and keeping a steady pace with his fist. 

He tries not to think too hard, tries to keep up, but all he can focus on is the slick sounds of Dave and Rhett’s mouths, how small he feels all the way down here on the floor and humping Dave’s foot like a dog. It’s humiliating, a sharp feeling in his stomach, in his chest. 

It’s a bit like floating. It’s good, calm, just two things to focus on instead of a thousand. Feeling and doing, that’s it. 

There’s nothing else to it, and he’s trembling, just a bit. He can hear Rhett making low noises in the back of his throat. He can feel Dave’s fingers in his hair getting more and more interested, giving Link praise while his mouth is occupied. His thighs burn, his jaw aches, and gosh he’s close. 

He’s close already, right there on the brink, and through his foggy, fuzzy brain, he registers the two of them pulling apart. One of them is making a lot of noise, and he’s willing to bet it’s him, but he can’t be bothered to care. Not right now, when he’s this close, when Dave is flexing his foot, pressing down even more, just enough, just right. 

And he hears, “Come on, Link. Good boy. You’re so good, Link.” 

And it’s Dave, it’s Dave, it’s Dave, and Link is coming just like that. He feels exhausted with it, curling forward and resting his head on Dave’s thigh, choking on a sob that feels too big in his chest as his orgasm drags its way through him. 

“Good boy,” Dave says again, and those fingers are still so soft, so careful and gentle on Link’s scalp.

He feels even fuzzier, he thinks, and he wants to talk, but he doesn’t trust himself to. So instead, he puts his free hand on Dave’s ankle in a silent question. Dave moves his foot, and when Link finds him, Rhett is sitting next to Dave on the couch, watching like Link was supposed to be doing before he got so lost in all of this. 

“Hey,” he says, voice coming out hoarse and sluggish. 

Rhett is grinning when he says, “Hey, man,” right back to Link. “Feel alright?” 

The question only barely registers, and Link can hear Dave laughing softly in response. Link nods his head, still resting it on Dave’s leg. He’s still got a hand around the base of Dave’s cock, but he-- 

He can’t be bothered to put much more effort into it than that right now. 

And Dave is nice enough to get his hand on Link’s wrist, tug his hand away with a soft sound. 

“Sorry,” Link says, but he’s grateful for the ability to revel in this fuzzy feeling instead of needing to focus on anything else. He knows he just needs a minute to catch his breath, to calm down, but he still feels a bit silly for not being able to keep up right now. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dave tells him, and then he’s shifting, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Rhett, will you go grab that bottle of water for Link?” 

It’s gentle, but direct, and Link feels himself suck in a sharp breath before he realizes he’s doing it. Dave’s grinning at him as Rhett stands a bit shakily, and he gets a hand in Link’s hair again. It’s good, soothing. 

He’s going to want to move, soon, get off of his knees, but he’s okay for now. Moreso when Dave opens the water and hands it to Link, tells him to drink as much as he can manage.

They all fall into a comfortable silence that Link traces in his head as he drinks. Dave is still hard, Link can tell, but he doesn’t ask for anything. He keeps a hand in Link’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently as Link drinks in slow, easy pulls. 

By the time Link is standing, squeezing himself onto the couch between the two of them, he’s feeling a lot like he wants to get out of his ruined jeans. He feels steadier, a lot less fuzzy. 

He’s also feeling a lot like he wants to finish what Dave started. 

\-- 

Link has been backstage at Dave’s shows twice now. The first time was way before the show even started, and he’d stopped by just to see Dave and then had prior arrangements to take care of. 

It was hectic then, so much going on all at once with everyone trying to get ready and making sure instruments were all situated. Link knows the process just from his own experience with performing live, but this is  _ different _ . This time Dave is on stage, looks over at Link every so often just to grin at him or shoot him a wink and a laugh. This time, Rhett’s right next to him, and they’re a little bit in the thick of things like Link has never really experienced from an outsider’s point of view. It’s the two of them, leaning against equipment, drinking beer, and trying to stay out of the way of everyone doing actual work. 

He shouldn’t be surprised that it’s like a party, and less so when Rhett leans in close after nearly three hours, voice full of laughter, to ask Link, “How the fuck does he have that much energy?” 

“Jagermeister,” Link tells him, and then the tell-tale signs of things nearing the end start showing up. He hears the crowd shouting, the music going quiet, and then he starts spotting familiar faces making their way backstage for a breather. The music is fading out, the crowd getting impossibly loud, and Link’s heart rate spikes for just a beat.

They all start filtering in, band and crew alike, searching for water and towels and bathrooms, skittering off onto the stage to check on instruments, retune them how they need to be. 

And then there’s Dave.

Sweaty, overexcited, adrenaline-fueled Dave, heading right for Link. His face cracks open around a smile, and then he’s full-on sprinting over to them, shouting like he’s been doing for hours and hours. Link can’t help the laughter bubbling out of him, the way he opens his arms for the hug he knows is coming despite the fact that Dave is sopping wet, and only most of it is sweat. 

“Why are you so wet, David?” he asks, and Dave buries his face in Link’s neck around his own laugh. 

“Fuckin’ hot up there, man,” Dave says, and he reaches out to clap Rhett on the arm, tug him in for a hug too. “How are you? Do you need anything?” and then he’s turning, shouting, “Hey! Get me three bottles of water!” to whoever is listening. 

Someone’s always listening, because it’s hardly a beat before someone is jogging over with three cold bottles of water, dripping with condensation. Dave hands them both one, cracks one open for himself. 

There’s so much going on around them, and next thing Link knows, Dave is being pulled away, handing Link his mostly-full water and telling him, “Drink both of those. I’ll fucking know if you don’t.” 

And it’s--

_ Oh _ . 

They’re doing that  _ now _ . 

He’s left standing there, double-fisting water while Dave does his thing with Taylor in the corner, pumping the crowd up for the encore, and Rhett elbows him when he stops drinking. 

There’s a grin on his face, and Link cocks an eyebrow. It takes him a beat, but then he realizes, “You knew about this?” 

“What?” It’s not a good lie, not with that stupid grin and the way he’s got his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s looking at Link like he’s so pleased with this whole situation. “ _ You _ knew, come on. We’ve all been waiting on this.” 

And it’s--

It’s weird, for a second, to consider that Rhett wants this as bad as Link does. That maybe he thinks about this all day just like Link. 

So Link takes another drink of water. Then he asks, “Y’all been talking without me?” But he makes sure to cock his eyebrow and take another long sip of water to show that he’s playing. 

Rhett shrugs, and Link traces his line of sight over to where he’s looking at Dave. “He texts me sometimes.” 

“Not the other way around?” Link asks, stuffs one of his waters into his jacket pocket as best he can. It’s bulky and awkward, but he doesn’t want to stand here holding both of them while they talk about this. “Surely you’re not immune to his charm. You’d be the only person on the face of the planet.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” Rhett says around a laugh, and then he’s nudging Link with his elbow again, looking at him pointedly until Link gets the hint and takes another drink of water. This is going to be a mistake in a very short amount of time, but Link knows his word, knows how this is going to pan out, for the most part. “He really likes you, ya know?” 

“Yeah?” Link teases, capping the bottle again, shuffling from foot to foot as they watch the band start piling out onto the stage again, everything getting loud again. Dave, on his way out, slaps Link on the ass and shouts something he can’t make out over the sound. Around a laugh, Link swats at him and watches as he barrels out into that roaring crowd again. The reality of it all almost has Link’s fingertips going numb. Or maybe that’s just the bass. 

It’s chaos, isolated and controlled as much as possible, and Link can’t help but feel like he’s floating, just a little. His whole body is thrumming and vibrating right along with the music, and he forgets that he’s supposed to be drinking until Rhett is nudging at him again. 

Link eyes him, takes another sip. 

They settle into that routine until Link starts to feel a bit like Rhett is reveling in the feeling of control that Link is allowing him. By the time he’s finishing the first bottle, Rhett is tugging the other one out of Link’s jacket pocket for him, handing it over. He leans in close to shout in Link’s ear over the wall of music surrounding them, “I bet he’ll be happy if you finish both of them before the encore is over.” 

“Sure,” Link says around a nod. He feels flush, his mouth impossibly dry after an entire bottle of water. 

He drinks, pointed and careful and paced as evenly as he can, all the way through until the music is dying out around them and he can hear everyone around them signalling the end of the show. There’s not quite a fourth of the bottle left, so he chugs it at the last minute. 

And gosh, it feels like a landmine. 

It feels like a commitment. 

They still have a party after this, and he knows this isn’t going to end here. 

They have a safeword. 

And he’s tasting it on the back of his tongue when he feels a familiar hand in his own, hears Dave saying something to someone that’s not Link; and then he’s being led through the entirety of the building. He knows where the bus is, but he’s still shocked when he feels the night air hitting his face. 

“You good?” Dave asks, and it’s so much quieter out here, even with the hum of the busses. 

“I’m great,” Link promises, because he is. Rhett is on their heels, and Dave’s hand is so sweaty against Link’s. He’s dripping wet, and Link wrinkles his nose. “You’re going to take a shower first, right?” 

Dave’s face lights up around his laugh, around pulling Link in and smashing their mouths together for just a second. And he’s pushing Link forward until he’s stepping up into the bus, with Rhett right behind him, Dave pulling in the rear. 

Link plops down onto the sofa, knowing they won’t be here for very long before they’ll all pile into a car and head to wherever this afterparty is being held. 

“Make yourself at home, boys,” Dave says, tugging off his shirt. “I am going fucking shower, thank you. There’s beer in the fridge. Get Link one, Rhett. Help yourself, if you want one, too.” And then he’s cramming himself into the tiny bathroom. 

Rhett shrugs off his jacket, and makes his way over to the fridge. 

“I don’t think I can drink that, man,” Link says. He’s already starting to squirm. It’s not that he has to pee already, it’s that he knows he will, so he’s anticipating it. He knows it’s all in his head, but he can’t help it. 

When Rhett twists off the cap, Link winces, has to bite back the whine building in the back of his throat. 

“You’re the one who started this,” Rhett tells him, that stupid grin still on his face. 

Link takes the beer from him when he hands it over, grimacing as he takes a tentative sip. It’s not even good beer. He hasn’t had a freaking Coors Light since he was in college and couldn’t afford good beer. And Rhett stifles a laugh when Link groans, sucks the foam off his top lip. 

Plus, Link might have started it, but he was joking. So he says, “I didn’t, really. I was kidding.” 

“Were you?” And Rhett is tugging his phone out of his back pocket to look at for a second, before giving Link a pointed look. 

Link squirms, physically, takes another sip, and doesn’t answer. 

He was. He  _ wasn’t _ , but-- 

He was. 

This wasn’t a  _ thing  _ for him, not like Dave’s things. The-- the pregnancy thing was a thing. Hell, this whole thing with Rhett is a  _ thing _ . 

The pee conversation was meant to be shocking. It was supposed to get a weird look from Dave, a shove, a kiss, something else entirely than an agreement. He wants it, but it wasn’t a thing. 

It’s a thing now, sure. Now, when he thinks about it, he feels that familiar flutter in his guts, feels himself getting flush. Dave has somehow managed to turn something he thought about in passing, when it showed up on porn sites he doesn’t spend a lot of time on, into a full-blown  _ thing _ .

So he takes another sip of beer. 

And he shifts, puts his beer on the ground, and reaches to tug Rhett forwards. Rhett’s pliant and happy to oblige. Link feels good about craning up to slot their mouths together, feels better when he feels Rhett’s hand land on the small of his back. This whole day has been wild, and he’s thrumming. He needs something to distract him from the ever-growing desperation starting to seep into his veins. 

Rhett tastes familiar and new all at once, his mustache longer and more of a distraction than Dave’s is. They’ve done this enough now that it doesn’t have that startling, twisting feeling of taboo attached to it anymore, but it still settles like fire in his stomach. 

It’s good, better when Rhett licks past the seam of his lips, presses forward until he’s looming over Link a bit, tilting him how he wants. Link moves with him, however he wants, craving the contact and the attention. And here Rhett is, giving it to him without question. 

Here Rhett is, doing a scene with Link and his boyfriend. 

Link rears up a little bit, makes a sound in the back of his throat. And then he’s pulling away with a huff, shoving at Rhett until he can get him sitting with his back flat to the bench. Before Rhett can protest, Link is swinging his leg over and settling into his lap, getting his hands on Rhett’s shoulders so he can lean forward and really get the angle how he wants. 

It’s even better. Gosh, it’s fucking perfect, because Rhett opens up underneath him, easy and proud, and Link tangles his fingers into Rhett’s hair for the added contact. 

“Gosh,” Rhett murmurs against Link’s mouth. His hands find their way to Link’s hips, and  _ yes _ . 

Yes, that’s exactly what Link needed. 

He hears the bathroom door open, but he doesn’t care. Let Dave find them like this. Link wants to know what he’ll say. Rhett either doesn’t notice, or has a similar thought to Link, because he just gets a hand under Link’s shirt and rubs at Link’s bare skin with a groan. 

They have a moment of settling into this, of Rhett touching Link and Link slipping his tongue against Rhett’s, drowning in the feeling of comfort and  _ want _ . It’s hot and it’s perfect and it’s made better by Dave getting a hand in Link’s hair. 

He scratches at Link’s scalp gently, says, “Well, aren’t you two pretty?” 

It’s Rhett who pulls away first, licking his lips, and Link sits up, arches his back to strain and try to reach for Dave. This is his show, afterall. 

He’s the one with a full bladder and a promise to make good on. 

All he gets is a wink before Dave is saying, “We have a party to get to.” 

“Can I pee first?” It’s a long shot, and he knows it. This is more fun if he pushes some buttons, though. He squirms in Rhett’s lap for good measure, listening to the way he inhales too sharp, taking in the way Dave’s grin goes a bit feral. 

“No,” he says, simple and honest. And then, “Ask me again and see where it gets you.” 

“Will I get to pee at all?” 

His beer is still sitting on the floor, at Rhett’s feet. He thinks about bringing it up for a second, to dig his fingers in a little more, but decides against it at the last minute. Dave drags his fingers down Link’s back, gives him a pointed look. 

“I guess we’ll fucking find out, won’t we?” Dave says. “Come on. Let Rhett get some feeling back in his legs.” 

Stifling his laugh, Link starts the process of standing, finding his own footing. And Dave is solid behind him, a sturdy point of contact. Link can’t help it when he reaches back for him, finds purchase by way of a hand on Dave’s side. He’s met with warmth, a kiss to the side of his head as Rhett leans down and picks up that damn beer from the floor. When he hands it to Dave, it’s put on the counter with a deep laugh echoing around the slamming of Link’s pulse in his head. 

They’re moving out of the bus in moments, with Dave in front this time, his hand in Link’s. Things don’t feel as heavy now, and Link revels in the quiet, in the calm, for as long as he’s allowed. 

\--

Parties are pretty much all the same. 

Even ones like this, which are Dave’s types of parties where everyone’s all over each other, reeking of booze, and trying desperately to talk loud enough to be heard over the music. Link’s not great with this sort of stuff to begin with, never has been. He’s always had to have the attention, if he’s honest, to counter the nerves. If he’s the loudest one or the most shocking or the most interesting, then nobody will know he’s nervous. 

Tonight, nobody will know he’s gotta piss so bad he could cry. 

He might cry. 

Dave keeps finding him for just long enough to hand him a fresh drink as soon as he gets down to just ice, and then he’s ducking away again, back to the group of VIP fans gathered in an adjoining room. Rhett’s been at his side through most of it, wandering off every so often to get himself another drink. Link can’t focus enough to really engage in any conversations, deciding to stick close to familiar faces and laugh and nod at the appropriate times. 

When he’s alone and trying to mingle with people he hardly knows, it’s worse, his whole body feeling like it’s humming in time with the ache in his bladder. And he’s  _ trying _ . People keep coming up to talk to him, introducing themselves because Dave sent them over or because they know who he and Rhett are, and it’s impossible to keep up with those conversations. 

Taylor comes up to him at one point with a knowing smile on his face, clapping him on the back and leaning in close to quietly let him know that he knows Dave can be a real bastard with this shit sometimes, but it’s worth the reward if he sticks it out, whatever it is. 

And that’s--

That very nearly helps, if Links is being honest. Because gosh, he’s trying. He’s really, really trying. 

He’s finishing every drink Dave gives him because that’s this game they’re playing, and he’s trying to think of anything at all that isn’t about him sneaking off and taking the piss of a lifetime. It doesn’t even have to be in a bathroom at this point. He’ll take whatever embarrassing spot Dave wants. He’ll piss anywhere right now, get as risky as Dave desires. Anything at all. 

Anywhere, just so long as he gets to piss. 

Because he’s--

He’s going to piss in his pants, in front of all these people if he’s not careful. He’s almost certain nobody would notice if he did, really, with how much there is going on, but still. 

And his resolve finally crumbles, a bit. He can’t take it anymore, can feel his bladder throbbing in time with his heartbeat, is clenching every single muscle he can in hopes that it’ll help him not piss himself. 

He doesn’t see Dave anywhere, doesn’t see Rhett, and he steels himself, stuffs his hands in his pockets before leaning closer to Pat and asking, “Hey man, where’s the bathroom?” 

It’s ducked off in the back, and Pat said to be sure to knock even if the light is off under the door. He makes his way through the crowd, careful to avoid any sort of conversation, the thumping of the bass accentuating the thumping of his bladder, and gosh he’s so close to being done with this. He’s almost to the bathroom, almost done mentally forming the apology he’ll give Dave when he’s caught.

He can take a punishment. He’s good at taking punishments. And--

He’s intercepted by Dave, who crowds him into a secluded corner, gets his hand on Link’s neck before very seriously asking, “Are you using your word?” 

When Link hesitates, he pulls him close and slots their mouths together sweetly. He pulls away right as Link is settling into the feeling of it, says, “If you’re not using your word, then you don’t have permission.” 

“ _ Dave _ ,” Link says, and he’s embarrassed at how shaky his voice is. He’s strung so tightly, impossibly so, and it’s-- 

It’s a sharp feeling in his guts. 

“Come on,” Dave says, and he doesn’t hold Link’s hand as they walk, but he stays close enough that Link’s comforted. 

People aren’t paying them any mind, least of all when Dave holds the door open to the single stall bathroom for Link to slip into, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking. The music is muffled as soon as the door shuts, and Link can hear the click of the lock through the pounding of his pulse. 

This time, when Dave tugs him close, slots their mouths together, it’s wet and as desperate as Link feels. He opens up under the attention, whining high and loud when Dave’s hand moves, cups over Link’s cock. 

“I can’t,” Link says against Dave’s mouth. “I  _ can’t _ , Dave.” 

“Yeah you can, baby,” Dave tells him, and he doesn’t put any pressure on him, just leaves his hand cupped gently over Link. 

Link’s head is spinning just a bit when Dave pulls away again, and it’s that Pavlovian response to being in a bathroom when you have to piss that’s leaving him whining, his whole body thrumming. He must be shaking his head because Dave is nodding his around a laugh, delighted and proud and-- and he’s guiding Link backwards, hands still on him, still laughing. 

“Come here,” he says, and then he’s standing in front of the toilet. It’s immediate, the waves of relief washing over Link, and his muscles unclench for just a second, just a beat, before he  _ realizes _ . 

Dave is-- 

Dave’s the one standing in front of the toilet, undoing his belt buckle. And he’s tugging Link close again, saying, “Do it for me.” 

“ _ Dave _ ,” Link says again, desperate and pleading because he can’t think of anything else right now. He can’t think at all, can’t focus on anything except not pissing himself at this party. 

But Dave is just tucking his hair behind his ears, saying, “Do it for me, baby.” 

So Link, choking back a sob, reaches into Dave’s open pants with a shaky hand and grabs for the base of his cock. It’s strange, doing this for someone else, and he gets himself behind Dave for a better angle on it. Resting his face against the soft feeling of the t-shirt Dave is wearing, he lets his eyes fall shut, listens to the soft rumble of Dave’s voice as he talks instead of the sound of him taking a piss. 

“You’re doing so good for me, Link,” Dave is saying, and he’s reaching a hand back to dig his fingers into Link’s thigh. “Can you keep holding it for me?” 

“No more drinks,” Link says, and he’s almost startled at the sound of his own voice, at how wrecked it sounds. 

“No more drinks,” Dave agrees, and Link can hear the laughter dancing in his tone. 

He only barely registers Dave pushing Link’s hands away, tucking himself back into his pants. When Dave turns around, fly and button still open, to tug Link to him, slot their mouths together in a wet kiss, Link works on auto-pilot to zip him up, get his button closed, his hands uncertain. 

They pull apart, and Link lets out a gasp of, “I can hold it.” 

“Fuck, Link,” Dave says, and it’s the first real confirmation Link’s gotten that this is doing it for Dave. “Fuck yeah, baby.” 

Honestly, he isn’t sure if he can, but he’s going to try his hardest. He’s trying. 

He’s fucking trying. 

And once they’re outside the safety of the bathroom, Link feels a bit light-headed with it, like maybe he spoke too soon. There’s a pause in him, real and scary, where he thinks he’s about to actually piss himself and cut this abruptly short. 

He feels his face heat up in embarrassment before he realizes he’s okay. He’s okay, and there’s Rhett, and they’re walking. He feels Dave’s hand on the small of his back, hears him mention something about their car. 

The party passes by him in snippets of conversations he can only barely hear over the music, in waves of only newly familiar faces that don’t acknowledge them walking out. Dave doesn’t do his usual thing of stopping to talk to everybody on their way out, just sticking close to Link and working him through the motions of leaving, finding the car, scrambling to get them all in there. 

Then, it’s all familiar. 

He knows that the thigh pressed against his own is Rhett’s, that the arm across his shoulder is Dave’s. He  _ knows  _ where they’re going. 

Even with his eyes still trying to adjust to the dark after the barrage of camera flashes they were assaulted with on their way into the car, Link feels better in here. It’s smaller, more contained, and there’s the comforting sound of Dave talking to the driver, talking to Rhett, before he’s leaning a bit closer into Link. 

He can hold it. 

He’s, he’s going to-- he’s not going to fall short on this, even if he’s got to think about nothing but holding it for Dave until the end of the night. 

Even if Dave asks him to hold it while he fucks Rhett in front of Link. 

That would, maybe, be the worst thing Dave could ask him to do tonight, but he’d do it if that’s what he wanted. But-- and he reaches to get a hand on whatever part of Dave he can, lands somewhere on his chest. 

“Don’t-- don’t make me hold it while--” but Dave is shaking his head already.

Softly, he says, “I won’t. Just a little bit longer for me, okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Yeah. He can do a little bit longer. He can make it to Dave’s house without pissing all over himself in the back of this car. 

It’s easy to close his eyes, drop his head back against the headrest. He lets his hand fall to Dave’s thigh, reaches out with his other hand to find Rhett’s. When he feels Rhett’s fingers lacing with his own, he rolls his head to the side and peaks at him for a second. 

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes a bit glazed from the alcohol. Wild hair, wet lips, and he looks so fucking good. Gosh, Link is lucky. 

Link’s fucking greedy, constantly greedy, and he just keeps getting exactly what he wants. He’s just given whatever he pleases, whatever he asks for. 

Eyes falling shut again, he says, “Love you,” to whoever is listening. 

“Love you, too,” he gets back, and he doesn’t know who it comes from, but it doesn’t matter. It’s echoed in a second, and it creeps into his bones with a heavy, easy feeling. 

\--

“Dave, you gotta--” and he’s gasping, being tugged down a familiar hall, into a familiar room. 

“I don’t gotta,” Dave says, and he’s chuckling. And the door is being closed behind Rhett, and Link is being tugged some more,  _ encouraged  _ onto Dave’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room by Dave’s eager hands. “You made me a promise, baby.” 

As soon as Link is settled in his lap, as comfortable as he can get with his bladder screaming at him, Dave’s hands are pushing at Link’s jacket. 

“You made  _ me  _ a promise,” Link says, choking on the sob building in his throat. He’s been holding it for hours, and Dave said not much longer, and he’s-- 

Fuck, he’s going to piss on himself. He’s already leaking a little bit, bent the way he is straddling Dave like this. 

“I’m gonna, Dave,” he warns, his eyes filling with tears. He can’t hold it anymore, reaches down to squeeze at himself through his jeans in hopes to stop it. Squirming and too hot, Link feels the embarrassment on his skin. 

“Go ahead,” Dave says, and he’s not pushing at Link’s clothes anymore. He’s settled into the chair, hands finding their way to Link’s back, holding him still. 

“No,” Link whines. He can’t-- He can’t do that like this. Not on Dave’s lap, through his clothes. “No, Dave, please.” 

“Thought you had to?” He can feel Dave’s thumbs rubbing circles in the dip of his spine. 

Link can hear himself whining, pitiful and embarrassing, and he can’t help it. For all the effort he’s putting into squeezing around himself to stave off the inevitable, he’s still leaking just a little bit. It’s a panic fluttering in his veins every time he feels it, and when Dave rocks his hips up, lets Link feel that he’s hard from this, it’s-- 

It’s fucking good. 

“If you gotta go so bad, then go,” Dave is saying. “I’m giving you permission.” 

He’s nodding before he can fully register it, reaching back with his free hand to blindly search for Rhett. As soon as his hand comes in contact with him, he’s tugging him forward, feeling desperate and frantic with everything. 

At the first press of Rhett’s lips against his own, he’s relaxing just enough to break the seal. It’s a wave of heat, first, the most incredible sense of relief he’s ever felt, like all of the tension in his body is melting away. And he gasps, loud and sudden into Rhett’s mouth, a whine curling itself around the end of it. 

Dave’s hands on him go tight, fingers digging into Link’s skin as he says, “Good boy, Link. So fucking good for me.” 

And for a second, Link can’t help but think about the chair that he’s no doubt soaking, Dave’s clothes that he can see are sticking to him, getting darker and wet. Then there’s a moan tumbling out of him before he can stop it, long and loud and so,  _ so  _ satisfied. It’s impossibly good, incredibly good, and Link wiggles his hips a little bit, chases that feeling. 

For a second he thinks it’s never going to end, that he’s going to just keep pissing forever, but then he feels those final moments, a shudder making its way through him. And Rhett’s mouth is right there, working him through the last shocks of pleasure, Dave’s hands still rubbing at his skin. 

He pulls away after a beat, needing to breathe, to steady himself before he starts floating away. The steady, solid press of Dave’s body underneath him and the feeling of Rhett stepping closer, getting his hand on Link’s shoulder, is grounding and so fucking good. 

The smell is not great, and the feeling of warmth in his jeans very quickly turns cold. He squirms, pulls a face, and listens to Dave’s soft laugh. 

The hands on his clothes are sort of a blur, two pairs tugging at every inch of clothes they can, and he watches with intent as Dave pulls off his own shirt. “Up,” Dave says, patting Link on his thighs. 

Standing isn’t exactly easy, the feeling in his legs a little bit fuzzy, but he manages okay, better when Dave’s hands grab at his forearms to steady him.

“Good gracious,” Link murmurs, letting out a bit of a hysterical laugh as he wobbles, tries to ignore the way Dave is wet from the middle of his stomach all the way to his knees. 

“You made a fucking mess, baby boy,” Dave tells him, but Link can see the laughter in his eyes, hear the edges curving into something sweet and hot and thick. “Rhett, come here.” And--

And Rhett’s been too quiet this whole time, hasn’t said a word, so Link’s panicked fluttering in his guts is sated when he says, “Yeah,” and steps closer to Dave. 

Link is cold and wet still, but it doesn’t matter because he watches Dave tug Rhett down to him, watches the way he slots their mouths together for a wet, deep kiss that leaves Rhett looking a little more dazed that he already did. He hears Dave’s murmur of, “You’re a good boy, too, huh? Listen to me just like Link does.” 

He hears Rhett’s sharp inhale, his whimper that’s maybe more open and raw than he was intending, if Link had to guess. But he knows what that’ll do for Dave, what that’ll earn him, and he’s right, because in a second, Dave’s grinning against his mouth and reaching down to cup over where Rhett’s hard in his pants. 

Link had nearly forgotten his own arousal in the midst of his need, is taken aback for just a beat by the fact that he’s only half hard. So seeing Rhett worked up like this, seeing him with glossy eyes and his hips pressing against Dave’s hand is a rush of heat Link hadn’t expected. 

Link watches the way Dave unbuttons his own jeans, pushes at them in a rush of movement before getting his hands on Rhett, working at the buttons of his shirt. Wanting to be part of this, Link gets himself out of his own pants, his wet underwear, shoving them in a heap by the door. There are towels set in a neat pile on the dresser, and he grabs one, tries to wipe himself down as discreetly as he can. 

Dave catches him anyway, chuckles, eyes him lewdly as he works on tugging Rhett’s shirt off of him. “Come clean me up, too,” he says, and Link watches him run his knuckles down the center of Rhett’s chest. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he tells Rhett, leans forward to get his mouth where his knuckles just were. 

There’s a, “Oh, fuck,” from Rhett, that feels hot and molten in Link’s stomach. 

Rhett’s already trembling just a little, and when Link shoves his way between the two of them, dislodging Dave’s hands from Rhett, Rhett’s hands from Dave, he’s given a pinch on his side for his rudeness. But he belongs right here, maybe. 

It feels too good for him not to belong right here, between the two of them. Maybe he’s jealous, but he can’t tell of who. 

It might be that he’s jealous of himself from a few hours ago, sandwiched between the two of them. 

Still, he leans against Rhett, hooks a couple fingers in Dave’s underwear, tugs at them halfheartedly. 

“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” Dave tells him. And then there’s Rhett’s hand alongside Link’s, helping him. They manage just nicely, and Dave does the work for Link, wiping at the mess of urine that’s still soaking his skin, looking entirely nonplussed at the whole ordeal despite the way it’s twisting up in Link’s chest. 

“Gosh, I really made a mess,” Link says, pulling a face, face going hot. 

“Fuck yeah, you did,” Dave says, grinning wide and toothy. “Did so fucking good for me and Rhett, baby.” 

“Yeah, Link,” Rhett says, and Link feels him nestle his face into Link’s neck before he realizes what’s happening. There’s the scratch of his beard against his overheated skin, a brush of familiar lips. It’s good, and he’s making a low sound in the back of his throat, arching his neck to give him more room. 

Right as Rhett is sealing his mouth over Link’s neck, teeth and tongue, he feels Dave’s hands on him, too, stepping in close as he digs his fingers into Link’s hips. There’s half a beat, where Link knows he’s just watching, before there’s a second mouth, hot and wet and just as familiar, leaving a wet path across his chest. 

“You know,” Dave murmurs into Link’s skin, “Rhett’s a big boy. Bet he’s got a real nice dick. How about he fucks you for me?” 

And Link sucks in a sharp, sudden breath, feels the way Rhett goes a bit tense, hears the grunt he lets out. 

“How about he fucks you, and once you both come for me, I fuck you next?” he asks, and Link’s hands fly up to tangle in Dave’s hair, needing to see his face for a second, needing confirmation that this is real and he’s tangible and right there, his mouth pressing those words into Link’s skin like a prayer. 

“Gosh, Dave,” Link whines, feels so  _ overwhelmed _ . 

“How’s that sound to you, Rhett? You feel like fucking our boy for me?” And the sound Rhett lets out is nearly pained. 

“I want to, so bad,” Rhett says, a little bit breathy, a little bit desperate. He’s pressing soft, little kisses along the length of Link’s neck. 

Link’s used to battling with this part of himself, the part that gravitates towards Rhett, leans into Rhett, searches for the warmth of his touch. It’s rooted in him so deeply that he doesn’t realize he’s doing it most of the time, but this is familiar and new all at once. Rhett’s never touched him like this before. 

Sure, they’ve made out a few times over the past couple weeks, talked about taking it further. And Link’s spent more nights listening to Dave murmur about Rhett into Link’s skin than he can even remember since that first night. None of that chases the nerves away. 

None of it settles the rattling of his bones inside his body as he realizes they’re actually doing this. 

He let Dave force him into pissing all over him and now he’s going to fuck Rhett. 

That’s-- 

“Fuck,” he says, mouth opening around a hiss, sharp and sudden, and he’s choking on a sob before he can stop it. “Gosh, somebody touch me, please.” 

He doesn’t have to beg, because there are two sets of hands on him already, and he hears Dave remind him of as much through the fog of his own desperation. Then he hears, “Come on, baby,” before Dave is tugging him away from Rhett, crawling backwards onto the bed, pulling Link with him.

And  _ oh _ . 

_ Oh _ , maybe that’s how they’re going to do this. 

Maybe--

Maybe Dave is going to stay underneath him the whole time, hands holding him in place while Rhett fucks him.

He watches as Dave settles against the headboard, then gets his hands on Link to manhandle him how he wants. Link’s hands get tucked up against his chest, his shoulders pressed into the mattress between Dave’s spread legs. There’s a hand at the back of his neck, comfortable and firm and steadying. The mattress behind him dips, and Link arches his hips up, wanting, wanting, wanting. 

He says, “Please,” slips the tips of two fingers into his mouth just for something to do with them. 

There’s a thumb rubbing circles into the skin at the back of his neck, and then Rhett’s hands on his hips. 

Dave says, “There’s lube in the side table. Condoms, too, if you want.” 

“No,” Link says, firm and sure so they  _ know _ . “Want-- Want y’all to come inside me. Please.” 

“Fuck, baby,” Dave says, and cards those fingers through Link’s hair in praise. “We can do that. We’ll get you so fucking full, Link.” 

He jerks a little at the feeling of a finger at his hole, like Rhett couldn’t stand waiting anymore and-- 

And he’s so hard already, feels like if Rhett drags this on it won’t get much further than that at all. There’s a plea in the back of his throat, but it dies short when Rhett presses inside as he asks, “Okay?” 

Link nods, not trusting his voice, mouth falling open, focusing on the feeling of Dave’s hand on his head. When he gets his wet mouth on the inside of Dave’s thigh, it’s met with a groan, with Rhett’s other hand landing on his ass, holding him open while he works his finger in deeper, careful, slow. 

He’s about to say something, beg, scream, something, but Dave beats him to it with a heavy, “Two, Rhett. Trust me, he can take whatever you give him.” 

“Yeah, come on,” Link encourages, trying to rock his hips backwards. He doesn’t even know if the words he’s saying are coming out of him with any sound, doesn’t know if they can hear him at all, but it doesn’t matter. 

Nothing matters except the points of contact he has with Dave and the press of Rhett’s middle finger alongside his first. It’s the same stretch Dave likes to give him, that same pressure, and it’s got him whining high and loud in the quiet of the room. 

It should be weird, being in the same room he fucked his boyfriend in the first time, fucking Rhett for the first time. It shouldn’t be settling hotly in the base of his stomach along with everything else, but it  _ is _ .

God, Link is  _ greedy _ . He wants to much, is  _ given  _ too much, is just given and given and given, and-- 

And Dave cards his fingers through Link’s hair again, right as Rhett is crooking his fingers at Dave’s request, tells Link, “Such a good boy, Link.” 

It cracks open in Link’s chest, the words warm and thick in the air as Link rocks his hips back into Rhett, looks for even more than what’s being given to him already. There’s a nervousness in him that wants to know Rhett wants this, too. He wants to hear Rhett just as desperate and ruined by this as Link feels, needs it to settle the fluttering in his chest. 

So he isn’t think when he says, “Rhett-- Do you like it?” 

“Do I like havin’ my fingers inside you?” 

He sounds-- Gosh, he sounds  _ good _ , throat tight, voice rough. Link nods shakily, clenches down around Rhett’s fingers, arches his back. The hand on his hip moves until it’s planted on the small of Link’s back, smooth and careful and familiar. He does that when they’re walking anywhere, guides Link forward, and like this, it’s fucking incredible. 

It’s fucking incredible. 

This time when Rhett talks, it’s met with him slipping his fingers out, tugging a pitiful whine out of Link’s lungs without permission. He says, “Yeah, Link, I like it.” He almost calls Rhett’s bluff, asks why he stopped, then, but there’s only a second before he can feel the blunt head of his cock at his hole instead, hears Dave’s low encouragement as he does. 

He moves until he can get his mouth on the inside of Dave’s thigh, needing something. 

Rhett’s saying, “You feel how hard you’ve got me?” and he’s slotting his cock between Link’s cheeks, wet and hard, and Link inhales so heavily it hurts, presses back into the feeling. “Fuck, Link, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” 

“Yeah?” Because--

Because he never said anything. Never brought it up, never hinted at it, nothing. So, why-- 

Why wait til Link’s got a boyfriend, got a third party to bring along before doing this? Why wait-- 

And his frantic string of thoughts is cut off by Dave’s fingers tugging at his hair, manhandling him until he’s looking up at Dave’s soft, kind eyes. That panic settles, the flames in his throat doused when Rhett presses inside right as Dave is saying, “Want to see your face while he fucks you.” 

Rhett’s cock is thick, maybe thicker than Dave’s, which is-- 

Which is saying something, really, and all the air is sucked out of him, his mouth falling slack, his eyes going a bit crossed as Rhett sinks into him. It could be because he’s been strung along all night, paraded around a big rock and roll concert and a big rock and roll party trying not to piss himself. It could be because it’s Rhett and they’ve been dancing around each other for years, but being fucked like this shouldn’t feel  _ this  _ good. 

Just being full shouldn’t have his toes curling, his whole body thrumming, every inch of him set alight. But he’s making an involuntary sound, rocking forward to get closer to Dave, arching his back to get closer to Rhett. 

Gosh, he’s exactly where he wants to be forever. And there are two sets of hands on him, one holding his hips in place, the other smoothing down his shoulders just to give him the contact. He might be floating, he can’t tell yet. 

He might come, just from this. 

“Gosh, Link,” he hears from Rhett, feels a sweaty forehead on his back, and then one of Dave’s hands is off of Link. When he hears Rhett hiss, he can piece together what’s happening, and it’s like flames licking down his spine. 

He wants-- “Y’all kiss.” 

And he’s moving, getting his arms from underneath him, moving and shifting until he can get up on his wobbly arms. And then he’s moving some more, flipping over onto his back without dislodging Rhett in a move Dave taught him, chuckling at the pained sound it pulls from Rhett.

With his head in Dave’s lap and his legs draped around Rhett’s hips, and gestures at the two of them.

“Kiss,” he says. And then, “Please,” for good measure. 

Rhett’s hips rock forward like he can’t help himself, a groan tumbling out of him, before he’s getting a hand at Dave’s neck, tugging him forward to slot their mouths together. Link can see Dave’s grin, hears the slick sounds of their mouths, and pointedly circles his hips. 

It’s mostly selfish, but it’s also to see Rhett’s brow furrow, hear the high sound he makes, feel the way his fingers dig into Link’s hip. He’s going to have bruises, and he doesn’t care. 

He wants them. He wants to be decorated in colors from their hands, their mouths, their teeth.

He wants to watch them make out like this forever. And it’s even better when Dave, with hand-eye coordination only a drummer could have, presses a couple fingers into Link’s mouth.

And gosh, but he’s full like this. 

Rhett’s hips rock forward again, like he forgot Link was there for a second, and he pulls away from Dave with a groan. The hand on the back of Dave’s neck doesn’t move, and Link hears Dave ask, “Yeah? ‘S good, huh?” 

His voice is dancing with laughter, and Rhett nods, leans into Dave when he presses his thumb against Rhett’s bottom lip before curling those fingers behind Rhett’s head and tugging him forward to slot their mouths together one more time. 

When Dave slips his fingers out of Link’s mouth a bit absentmindedly, Link full-body shivers, watching the two of them intently, rocking into Rhett’s thrusts into him. He’s going to come like this. He’s-- 

He’s already so close, so fucking full and teetering right on that edge. He doesn’t even need to be touched, can come just like this a little bit more. 

He swears under his breath, tugs at his hair with both hands. 

“Oh, look at you,” he hears from Dave, and he looks up in time to catch Dave’s grin, the way he’s watching Link, hand still tangled in the mess of Rhett’s hair. “You’re gonna come for us, Link?” 

And this time Dave’s hand lands on Link’s chest, squeezes like he’s so fond of doing, and it’s-- 

Oh, it’s so good. That pinch, that pressure, and Link hisses against the feeling. His muscles go tense, and Rhett makes a heavy sound, and Link’s eyes squeeze shut. 

“Yes,” he hisses, nods his head, because he fucking will. He will, he’ll come just from this, if Rhett just-- 

If he-- 

And he feels the scratch of Rhett’s beard against his neck first, the press of his lips second. It’s sweet and good, and he’s coming before he fully registers it, body going taut as he does, mouth too open for the kiss to be good, but he doesn’t care. He’s choking on a sob, the entirety of the night draining out of him as he comes and comes and comes, making a mess of himself. 

There’s something about coming while still being full that’s always so much better than he would have ever thought. And Rhett never stops moving, fucks him through the aftershocks of it all, until Link is boneless against the bed, eyes still trying to come back into focus. 

Through his own fog, he can hear Rhett murmuring lowly, telling Link how good he feels, how he loves this, wants to do it all the time. And Dave’s voice as he pets through Rhett’s hair, telling him that he’s a good boy, that he can come whenever he wants, that Link will take it so good for him. 

“Fuck,” Link slurs, head lolling to the side, mouthing at the inside of Dave’s thigh when he finds it there. The skin-on-skin contact is good, grounding, and after a beat, he says, “Want you to come, Rhett.” 

“Gosh, Link,” he hears, strained and desperate, and his hips stutter before he’s letting out a low, heavy sound instead. He curls into Link, buries his face into the crook of his neck, and buries all those sounds into Link’s skin as he comes. 

Dave’s hand tugs at Rhett’s hair, and Link watches the way it makes Rhett shudder, feels the way it has him rocking his hips forward a bit harder. 

Link is sweaty and sensitive and  _ tired _ , but none of that stops him from scrambling to find Dave’s skin, leaning his head back to look at him as he says, “Your turn. Come on.” 

“Fucking fuck, Link,” Dave laughs. He scratches at Rhett’s scalp, pets the down the side of his face. “Give Rhett a second to catch his breath. He just came his fucking brains out, baby.” 

There’s an affirmative grunt from Rhett, but Link wiggles his hips, turns his head so he can kiss Rhett’s cheek, his jaw, whatever. “Dave’s turn,” he says, and Rhett chuckles warmly. 

“Greedy, huh?” Rhett says, like he’s reading Link’s fucking mind. 

He is greedy, but god he fucking loves it. 

It’s always uncomfortable, that empty feeling, but Rhett’s good about going slow, not making it startling. Link lets one of his hand linger on his belly as he moves places with Dave. 

Part of him feels a bit  _ slutty  _ for this. He feels almost like he should blush and bat his eyes and be coy about wanting Dave to fuck him now, too. 

Instead he gets his hands on Dave, tugs him forward until he gets the message, bends to slot their mouths together in deep, wet kiss that Link feels in tingles in the palms of his hands. There’s very little warning before he’s lining the head of his cock up and pressing inside, just barely a breath out of him. 

And gosh, but Dave is good about just bottoming out, no preamble, no dragging this on, just taking what he wants from Link. 

When he pulls away and says, “My greedy fucking  _ dirty  _ boy, Link.” 

Rhett’s makes a sound at that, and Dave’s eyes fly up to his. He’s reaching out, bending Link nearly in two as he fucks into him, gets his hand in Rhett’s hair while he does, like he’s using him for leverage. 

“God, you two are gonna fucking kill me,” Dave laughs. 

That pulls a laugh from Rhett, real and warm and pooling under Link’s skin. He can’t get hard again this soon, but he wishes he could, because Dave always, always knows exactly how to fuck him, exactly how Link likes it. And with Rhett right there, watching, knowing that it’s his come that’s slicking the way for Dave, it’s--

He says, “Fuck, I can-- I can feel Rhett’s come leaking out of me,” knowing what it’ll do. 

It earns him a heavy, throaty groan from Dave, a sharp inhale from Rhett. 

“Gosh, Dave,” he groans, “I’m so fuck- fuckin’ wet from him.” 

His free hand finds its way to Link’s hole, presses at the rim, pulling a shocked noise from Link. It’s good, it’s good, it’s good, and when Dave comes, his chin hits his chest and his hair falls in his face. His entire body goes taut for a beat before he’s exhaling around a rough, loud sound. I

Link’s even wetter, then. He feels dirty. 

It’s almost unpleasant when Dave pulls out, replaces his cock with two of his fingers just to see the look on Link’s face so he can lean down and kiss it right off of him. 

Link reaches back to get a hand around Rhett’s neck, tug him down into the whole thing. 

They can’t manage much, but he does feel both of their mouths on him at one point, until he doesn’t know who he’s kissing anymore. 

When they pull away, Link lets himself relax with a hum. 

He desperately needs a shower, and he knows they do, too. He also knows Dave’s shower is big enough for all of them, has been fucked in there a couple times at this point. 

“Good?” Dave’s asking, and Link nods. Rhett makes a soft, happy sound, gets his hands on Link.

“You good?” Link asks, reaching out to drag his fingers across Dave’s chest. 

“I’m real fucking good, baby,” he says around a smile. 

“I hear your shower’s real big,” Rhett says, and Link can feel it rumbling through him around a laugh. 

He’s good. 

He’s really,  _ really  _ fucking good.   
  



End file.
